


patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet

by kagome_angel



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Edging, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Lessons in Patience, Light Bondage, M/M, Sappy, Sweet, These Two Are So in Love and I Cannot Handle It, Topping from the Bottom, Victor's Decided That "Hideous" Tie Can Serve A Much Better Purpose, intimate, patience is a virtue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 22:46:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10581066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kagome_angel/pseuds/kagome_angel
Summary: “I want to teach you about patience,” Victor tells him, trailing kisses down his jaw and along the column of his throat.  Yuri sighs—it’s a good sound, and Victor nips at the skin above one of his clavicles, noting the sound Yuri makes when he does, and he wonders if he’ll get a similar reaction if he does that to other patches of skin.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title is actually a quote from Aristotle. This is another one of those ideas that wouldn’t stop bugging me until I finally sat down and decided to write it. Takes place right after episode nine.

Victor’s exhausted—all of them are, as is evidenced by Maccachin promptly flopping down onto one of the beds and claiming it as his own; he’s asleep within ten minutes of their arrival, and Victor’s sprawled on the other bed with a certain _katsudon_ beside him, their bodies close, touching (Victor enjoys the proximity; being apart from Yuri has made the need to be close to him all the more apparent, and even though he’s certain someone, anyone, would chastise him for his clinginess, Yuri obviously does not fall into either of those categories because he’s made no move to separate himself from Victor since their reunion at the airport). 

Their bags, scarves, and their jackets have been unceremoniously deposited on the floor; Yuri’s glasses are on the bedside table, and Victor’s pretty sure they should just call it a night, but Yuri is restless, and if he’s being honest with himself (which, he is), Victor is, too.

“What’s on your mind?” Victor asks in the quiet between them and Yuri gives him a sidelong glance before shifting, rolling so that he is on his side and facing Victor, even closer now.

“I’m glad Maccachin’s okay,” Yuri murmurs, and the sincerity in those eyes makes Victor’s heart swell. “And I’m glad that you’re back.”

Victor smiles, reaching over with his left hand to brush his fingers along the curve of Yuri’s cheek; his smile broadens when Yuri leans into the caress, closing mahogany eyes briefly before meeting Victor’s gaze once more. 

“Me too,” Victor finally answers. “On both counts.” He doesn’t know what he would have done if Maccachin hadn’t pulled through, doesn’t want to think about it. He also doesn’t want to think about being separated from Yuri, not right now, not when they’re both here and Yuri’s looking at him with such relief and anticipation (and perhaps his tired eyes are playing tricks on him in regards to the latter, but he’s much more happy to indulge himself in the idea that that is, indeed, one of the things Yuri is feeling). 

“I saw you,” Victor tells him, changing the subject, “on the television.”

Yuri scrunches his face up then, and he’s no longer meeting Victor’s eyes. “Don’t tell me, I know. I didn’t do my best; Yurio and Yakov lectured me in your stead, don’t worry.”

Victor can’t help but chuckle at that mental image, and he pulls Yuri closer, kissing the top of his head. “I’ll let it slide for now, then,” he tells him, “but don’t think you’ll be getting off so easily next time.”

Yuri huffs against his shoulder. “I know, I know.”

“You were beautiful,” Victor says, serious now, no longer teasing. “You always are.”

Yuri is perfectly silent for a moment, his face still buried in Victor’s shoulder, but then he’s moving again, shifting so that he’s now leaning over Victor, and there’s a soft blush coloring his cheeks. He’s pleased with the compliment, Victor can tell by the look in his eyes, by the small smile playing on his lips.

His _katsudon_ is bending down then, pressing his lips softly and sweetly to Victor’s own, cupping Victor’s cheek with one hand. It’s pleasantly surprising for Yuri to take the initiative, but with everything he’s shown him thus far both on and off the ice, Victor supposes he shouldn’t be all that surprised, and yet—

And yet, he is, every single day, every single moment that he spends with this incredibly amazing human being. 

He moves to deepen the kiss, fingers weaving themselves gently into ebony locks as Yuri allows the motion, encourages it, lips parting willingly for Victor’s questing tongue; he tastes like coffee and mint and _Yuri_ , and Victor can’t quite tell if Yuri’s melting into him or vice versa, or some wonderful combination of both. He chooses not to spend much time attempting to over-analyze it; he prefers to focus instead on the way Yuri’s so readily responding to him, how some switch seems to have flipped inside of him so that he’s no longer shying away from Victor’s advances but answering them instead; that alone is enough to ignite a flame within him, but throw in the quiet noises that Yuri’s making against his mouth and the way Yuri’s fingers are grasping at his shirt and tugging, well…

It doesn’t take long for the flame to become a raging wildfire, especially when Yuri straddles him, not breaking the kiss, and Victor can _feel_ how this is affecting Yuri, too, and his hands shift to Yuri’s hips, holding him in place while he rocks upwards experimentally, giving Yuri the opportunity to feel _exactly_ how his body is responding to him.

It’s Yuri who breaks the kiss with a low moan, his hips jerking, lips parting while his brow furrows and he repeats the motion, and this time both of them moan. 

“Victor,” Yuri says, and Victor regards him through lowered lashes, thoroughly enjoying how Yuri looks right now, flushed and _wanting_ , and it’s incredibly, undeniably sexy. 

“Hmm?” Victor queries, and then Yuri’s kissing him again, moving those tantalizing hips without any hint of hesitation, and there’s no real rhythm but it feels good and it’s made even better by the way Yuri’s kissing him, no finesse but all emotion, and Victor can appreciate that and he _does_ ; he shows it by groaning into Yuri’s mouth and slipping his hands beneath Yuri’s shirt, fingers playing along bare skin. 

Yuri shudders above and against him, and Victor works it out very quickly that he desires to make Yuri react like that as often as he possibly can; he’s pretty sure Yuri won’t mind the effort.

Yuri’s hands sneak beneath Victor’s shirt, too, fingers mapping out the plane of his torso carefully at first, and then bolder, eager, and when those fingers skate over a sensitive nipple, Victor rewards him with blunt nails digging into the skin of his back. It makes Yuri break the kiss a second time and hiss, his forehead bumping against Victor’s, though not painfully.

Yuri’s hands and hips are moving against him again, impatient, demanding, and while the eagerness alone is more than a mere turn-on, Victor wants to derail him a little, slow him down some so that both of them can savor it; he doesn’t want it to be rushed and over before they can truly begin. Yuri deserves better than that, whether he realizes it or not, and Victor wants to always, _always_ do right by him.

Victor thinks fleetingly of one of Yuri’s recent performances—he’d been impatient then, too, though it had worked out quite well for him in the end. He smiles inwardly as he pulls Yuri down into another kiss, his hands finding their way to Yuri’s hips again and forcing them to still, even as Yuri’s mouth continues to move hungrily against his own. Yuri tries to keep rocking his hips, too, testing Victor’s hold on him, and when Victor doesn’t give, Yuri whines into the kiss and Victor swallows the sound.

He thinks he can make Yuri’s impatience work out well for him now, too. Well, for the both of them, actually. He’ll just have to show his sweet _katsudon_ how patience can be _rewarded_.

He rolls them so that he’s now on top of Yuri and Yuri lets him. When Victor pulls back from the kiss, Yuri’s gazing up at him with a fire in his eyes that matches the heat that is rapidly growing in Victor’s lower belly. 

“There are things I want to show you,” Victor begins, and then clarifies when Yuri’s look changes to one of slight puzzlement: “ _Off_ the ice… things I want to give you.”

Yuri’s response is a breathless, “You already do,” and the words themselves tug at his heartstrings, while the way in which they are spoken sends a thrill down his spine; electricity flows over and between his vertebrae, and for a moment, Victor can’t speak; for a moment, he’s having to remind himself that the plan is to give Yuri a lesson in patience; for a moment, he’s having to talk himself down from getting ahead of himself.

Victor licks at his lips, noticing how Yuri’s eyes track the movement, knowing that Yuri wants him to notice, not that he wouldn’t, otherwise. His mind, his heart, and his body are all perfectly attuned to the man beneath him, and he knows, without question, that it’s the same for Yuri, because Yuri has this brilliant way of saying things without breathing a word at all, and Victor’s an idiot if he can’t appreciate that.

“I want to teach you about patience,” Victor tells him, trailing kisses down his jaw and along the column of his throat. Yuri sighs—it’s a good sound, and Victor nips at the skin above one of his clavicles, noting the sound Yuri makes when he does, and he wonders if he’ll get a similar reaction if he does that to other patches of skin. He thinks ( _hopes_ ) he will, and he decides to test the theory, moving off of Yuri and urging the other man to sit up so that Victor can remove his shirt.

As soon as it’s tossed aside, Victor pushes Yuri back down, picking up where he left off. He discovers that, yes, Yuri does react in much the same manner when Victor’s teeth graze other parts of his torso—his fingers tangle in Victor’s hair and they pull, though not unpleasantly. 

“You’re supposed to be teaching me about patience,” Yuri pants as Victor’s tongue lavishes a hardened nipple with attention, “and look… at what you’re doing.”

_Touché_ , Victor thinks, nipping sharply at that nub of flesh in reprimand. It earns him a low moan, and he rewards _that_ with an apologetic flick of his tongue. “I’m teaching you that patience is rewarded,” he informs, one hand sliding down Yuri’s front, palming his erection through his pants, and Yuri’s hips jerk upwards almost instantly. 

It’s probably an involuntary reaction, and Victor’s well aware of this, but he removes his hand anyway, smirking and wagging a finger at Yuri, who is currently looking purely frustrated, but Victor plans on remedying that soon.

He has an idea and worries for a moment if it’s too much; perhaps he should save it for another time, after they’ve done this differently and after they’ve had proper rest. That worry is dismissed when Yuri says his name again and bites down on his bottom lip.

“Where is that hideous tie?” Victor asks him. “You know the one I’m talking about.”

He almost chuckles at Yuri’s mildly affronted look, choosing to soften the jibe by tacking on: “I have a much better use for it, I promise.”

Yuri seems to want to sulk, but curiosity gets the better of him: “It’s in my luggage.”

Victor’s already off the bed and unzipping one of Yuri’s bags when Yuri corrects him: “Not in that one. The one beneath that one.”

Victor sighs in feigned annoyance. “Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” He finds the object in question, quite glad, for once, that they hadn’t opted to burn it, after all. He supposes, though, that even if they had, one of his own would suffice. 

He rejoins Yuri on the bed and motions for Yuri to sit up. “Hands behind your back,” he tells him, and Yuri does as he’s told, still without hesitation, although the look in his eyes is questioning. 

Victor moves behind him, wrapping the tie around his wrists and knotting it off, though careful to allow for proper circulation while simultaneously making sure that Yuri can’t get out of it until either Victor allows it, or Yuri becomes uncomfortable and tells him to stop. Victor is rather hopeful that the latter won’t be an issue, but he will respect any boundaries Yuri may have, without question.

He presses soft, open-mouthed kisses between Yuri’s scapulae, quite enjoying how the action raises goosebumps on Yuri’s skin. “I’m doing this, Yuri, so that you will learn to appreciate being able to touch me after not being able to, until I allow it.”

He’s back in front of Yuri now, and the look in those eyes is no longer questioning or curious, but heated. “And what will _you_ be doing?”

“Teaching you about patience, of course.” He traces Yuri’s bottom lip with a finger, and when Yuri’s pink tongue darts out to touch his skin, he makes a sound that might be something akin to a growl. His little _katsudon_ is getting bold, not that he’s opposed to that in the slightest.

But then, something changes in Yuri’s face, and he’s suddenly the shy, uncertain creature that Victor encountered at Hasetsu (not that that is an issue either, because Victor loves _every_ part of Yuri, even the parts that Yuri isn’t proud of, but isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?), and all Victor wants to do is reassure him in any way that he can.

For a second or two, Yuri says nothing. He simply looks down, away from Victor, but Victor places his fingers beneath Yuri’s chin, tilting it so that Yuri is looking at him once more. 

“I haven’t done this before,” Yuri tells him, as if he’s ashamed to be admitting it. It’s not like Yuri hasn’t told him this before now; he’s already told Victor that he hasn’t ever been romantically involved with anyone, and there’s no reason for him to be ashamed of that now, or ever. Victor doesn’t want Yuri to feel ashamed or inadequate because inadequate is everything that Yuri is _not_. 

“I’ve imagined it, with you,” (and Yuri blushes at this but it makes Victor’s cock throb within the confines of his clothing, knowing that Yuri’s thought about this with him, just as Victor himself has thought about it), “but I’ve never… you know. So. I might be really terrible at it?”

“Not possible,” Victor assures, cupping Yuri’s face in his hands and kissing him slowly and deeply. Yuri relaxes into it, all pliant and willing, and Victor idly wonders if Yuri knows that he’s got him wrapped around his finger—he does and he has, for some time, and Victor loves it. More than likely, Yuri’s oblivious to that particular fact, and it’s incredibly endearing; he often thinks that he couldn’t possibly care for Yuri any more than he already does, but somehow… he’s always proving himself wrong.

“I’m here,” Victor tells him, murmuring the words against Yuri’s lips. “You’ve got me, Yuri. I’m not going anywhere. _Nothing_ is going to stop what or how I feel, okay? I want you. And you’ve got me.”

Yuri nods and leans into him as if relieved, and Victor’s having to swallow past the lump of emotion in his throat. 

Victor draws back enough to look at him properly, and says, “If you need me to stop, just tell me so, and I’ll stop.”

Again, Yuri nods. “I understand, but I’m not going to need to tell you to stop.” Yuri’s giving him _that look_ again, the one that’s all molten heat, and fuck, Victor’s kind of glad he’s already on the bed because those words combined with that look have made him feel a bit weak in the knees, and for one fleeting second he almost regrets binding Yuri’s hands because he sure as hell could use those hands on him right _now_ , specifically on his cock, which is aching for attention.

(He has to remind himself who is supposed to be teaching whom about patience, here.)

He kisses Yuri’s forehead, the bridge of his nose, and then his lips, though only chastely. He places a palm on Yuri’s chest and gently presses. “I need you to lean back,” he explains, helping Yuri to maneuver so that he’s closer to the head of the bed, upper back pressed against the wall (Victor is grateful that there isn’t a headboard, although he supposes it would have worked, too). His body’s at a bit of an angle now, and the wall is going to give him enough leverage for what’s coming next.

Victor brushes his fingers teasingly over the front of Yuri’s pants once more, noting the sharp intake of breath as he does so. He focuses on the button and fly of Yuri’s pants next and makes quick work of them, and then he slips his fingers beneath the waistbands of both Yuri’s pants and his briefs. “Lift your hips for me,” he instructs, and Yuri is quick to comply, the wall behind him supporting him and keeping him from becoming off-balance and toppling over. 

Victor tugs the articles of clothing halfway down Yuri’s legs before prompting Yuri to sit back down again so that he can finish removing them. Once that’s done, he slots himself between Yuri’s legs, Yuri automatically shifting to accommodate, and Victor peppers kisses and soft bites to Yuri’s inner thighs, thoroughly enjoying how it makes Yuri squirm and gasp. 

He moves closer to Yuri’s erection, hovering there, not yet letting his lips touch it; there’s pre-cum at the tip and Yuri’s holding his breath, waiting.

Victor chuckles, darting his tongue out to catch that drop of fluid, wetness against heated flesh, and Yuri’s breath is released in a low moan, hips jerking upwards, and Victor immediately withdraws, clicking his tongue. “What did I tell you I was teaching you?” he asks, and Yuri whines, and Victor finds it incredibly adorable and undeniably humorous, although truth be told… he’s testing his own patience here, too.

He resumes pressing open-mouthed kisses to Yuri’s thighs, deliberately avoiding where he knows Yuri wants him the most. He slips a hand beneath Yuri’s sac, cupping it and gently squeezing, and that earns him another delicious groan and a slightly-strangled, “Please.”

“Since you’re being so polite about it….” Victor lets his sentence trail off, leaning in and licking a slow, wet stripe up the length of Yuri’s erection, delighting in the sounds that spill from the other man’s lips as he does so, and if Yuri likes _this_ , well….

Victor wraps his lips around just the head initially, flicking his tongue against the sensitive underside, and Yuri releases a low, keening moan; it’s encouragement, but Victor stays right where he is for several seconds, tongue swirling, finding all those spots that make Yuri gasp, and maybe it’s a cruel tease, but if Yuri can just be patient enough—

Without further pause and without anything even remotely resembling a warning, Victor relaxes his jaw, his throat, and he takes Yuri in all the way to the base. Yuri’s groan is a startled, but most definitely pleased one, and Victor’s retreat is a contrast to his advancement; it’s a slow drag of his lips and tongue, back to the head, where he applies a bit more suction, making Yuri shudder. Back down again, and he thinks it would probably feel really nice to have Yuri’s hands in his hair while he does this, tugging sharply, holding him in place. He files it away for later – they’ll have a _lot_ to explore – and resumes focusing on the here and now, building a slow rhythm that he can tell Yuri’s body badly wants to follow, but his little _katsudon_ is restraining himself, and maybe (just maybe) he’s learning a little something about patience, after all.

Yuri’s thighs are trembling, and Victor moves his hands, fingertips brushing over them as he increases speed and pressure, doing his best to ignore the fact that with every stroke of his mouth along Yuri’s length and with every incoherent sound that Yuri makes in response, Victor’s own length reminds him of its currently uncomfortable confines. However, he prefers to focus on Yuri, on what he wants to give him, on how he wants to take him to that edge again and again until both of them have reached something akin to a breaking point, and then he wants to watch Yuri fall right over that edge, once he’s proved that he’s learned what Victor is trying to teach.

All at once, something changes in Yuri; his muscles, which are already tense with the force of his self-restraint, tighten even further beneath his skin, beneath Victor’s hands. “I’m gonna--” 

Victor pulls back, his mouth leaving Yuri’s cock with a wet _pop_. Yuri whines long and low, his hips rolling, no doubt seeking the warmth that just left him. He looks confused and frustrated, gazing down at Victor, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

“Patience,” Victor reminds him. “I have something much better in mind for you, Yuri.” The urge to kiss him again proves to be irresistible, and so Victor surges up to do just that, sucking lightly at the spot that Yuri’s teeth had just been worrying at as he draws back.

He slides off the bed, deciding that it’s time he get undressed as well. Looking right into Yuri’s eyes, he purrs, “Would you like to see what you do to me, Yuri?”

There is an almost-inaudible catch of breath, and then Yuri nods. “Yes,” he replies, and then adds, “please.”

Well, he’s certainly getting bonus points for politeness. 

Victor strips for him slowly, teasingly, and by the time he’s down to his briefs, he’s decided that it’s incredibly erotic, the way Yuri’s eyes rake over each patch of newly-exposed skin. He’s drinking it all in, while Yuri is drinking _him_ in, and when his briefs hit the floor and he’s stepped out of them, Yuri is staring at his hard cock like he wants to devour it, devour _him_. It sends a pleasant little shiver down Victor’s spine, makes his length give a little twitch, and he says: “ _This_ is what you do to me. This is what being here with you, like this, does to me.”

Yuri drags his gaze away from Victor’s erection with what seems like great effort, deep mahogany eyes locking with Victor’s own. “When will you let me touch you?” Yuri’s blushing as the words leave his mouth, which is nothing short of endearing, but his voice is steady and just knowing that Yuri wants his hands on him so badly sends another thrill of pleasure straight to Victor’s cock.

He gives Yuri a half-smile. “Not yet.”

Yuri doesn’t seem surprised by the response, but he doesn’t seem terribly thrilled about it, either. Perhaps somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks this is all just a bit unfair. Victor’s already picked up on how eager Yuri is to reciprocate in other aspects of their relationship, and can only imagine that it extends to more sensual settings as well, such as this.

“I will make it worth your wait, Yuri,” Victor promises as he heads for one of his own suitcases, unzipping it and rummaging through it. It takes him only a few seconds to find what he’s looking for, given it’s a fairly recent purchase that he’d tucked away in the event that things between them managed to progress to this stage in the near future; he hadn’t done so intending to come off as being presumptuous, but hopeful. 

When he comes back to the bed, he notices that Yuri’s eyes are on the bottle in his hand. He doesn’t seem afraid or nervous, merely curious. “Do you need me to reposition somehow?” Yuri asks; he’s still leaning against the wall, which is perfect for what Victor has in mind.

Instead of answering the question, Victor asks one of his own: “Do you know what I’m planning on doing with this?”

There’s that tinge of pink creeping up into Yuri’s cheeks again, and Yuri doesn’t quite meet Victor’s eyes as he replies, “I said I haven’t done this before… but that doesn’t mean I haven’t read about it, and I told you I’ve thought about it. I have an idea of how it works. So… you’re going to need me to move, right? I also might need help, given the fact that my hands are useless right now.”

Victor doesn’t fight the smile that tugs at his lips; he is careful, however, to not give anything away as he tells Yuri, “I want you to stay exactly as you are.”

Ah, he’s puzzled him, as is apparent by the confusion scrawled all over his sweet Yuri’s face. “You do?”

Victor leans in, resting his forehead against Yuri’s. “Don’t ever take your eyes off me,” he instructs, parroting the words that Yuri had said to him in Beijing prior to performing Eros. Yuri’s eyes widen a fraction, and then Victor is moving away, scooting back, opening the lubricant and applying a generous amount to the index and middle fingers of his right hand. He spreads and warms it a little with his fingers and draws a knee up, taking a slow, quiet breath to steady himself. It’s been… some time since he’s done this, with anyone, or even just alone.

However, it isn’t as if he isn’t familiar with his own body; he knows what to do, and how, but it’s quite different when there’s an audience—different even more so when said audience is the person that you are absolutely (without the slightest hint of a doubt), madly in love with. He’s never been shy when it comes to sex, and he isn’t now, but… more than anything, he simply wants to do _right_ by this incredible individual that he has come to adore, wants to give him everything he could hope for (and then some) in regards to _this_ —who and what they are, together. What they can and what they will be.

He draws a knee up, supporting himself with his left hand while he moves his right hand between his legs. He bypasses his (still-aching, and even more so, now) cock, trailing his index finger along his perineum before prodding gently at the ring of muscle below it, forcing himself to relax. 

He pushes in to the first knuckle, giving himself a moment to adjust before probing further, up to the second knuckle, and then further still. It isn’t painful or unpleasant, and when he thinks about what he plans on doing after this, it sends a sweet thrill of anticipation through him, and he bites down on his bottom lip as he draws back and presses in again. He adds a second finger when he feels comfortable, and that’s when he dares to look up at Yuri.

Yuri is very openly _staring_ at him, and it pleases him; he loves that Yuri’s gazing at him with open desire, and he wonders what Yuri would be doing right now if his hands were free. Would he crawl over to him and touch him? Kiss him? Impatiently and boldly replace Victor’s fingers with his own?

That would defeat the purpose of making him wait, though, and the reward for his patience won’t be nearly as sweet if Victor lets him go _now_.

(Actually, now that Victor thinks about it, it probably would be, but he’s going to see this through, damnit.)

Victor scissors those fingers inside of himself, hissing softly as he does so, though not in pain. He’s not as careful now with the push and pull and the stretch; what he feels are his fingers but what he imagines is Yuri, and the heat in his lower belly is growing hotter by the moment, with every slide of his fingers, with every involuntary little moan that Yuri makes.

He curls his fingers then, quite deliberately, finding and brushing against that spot that causes him to convulse and groan, his vision swimming, thoughts de-railing and he does it again, pleasure shuddering through him like a low-level earthquake. 

Victor’s in the process of adding a third finger and spreading them apart (more of a stretch, and there’s a bit of a sting, but it’s more than manageable) when Yuri’s voice momentarily brings his actions to a grinding halt.

“Victor.” Yuri’s panting softly, erratically. His voice is strained, rough, _delicious_. “I want you.”

And _that_ , that right there (those words, the way in which Yuri speaks them) does a better job of giving Victor pleasure than his own fingers do, by a very large margin. He clenches around the fingers that he’s worked inside of himself and his cock throbs, pre-cum dribbling onto the comforter below him. 

“You will have me, Yuri,” he says, voice throaty and affected. He doesn’t know if he’s saying it to reassure Yuri, or to reassure himself. Maybe both. 

Yuri’s gazing at him through his lashes and his body is trembling just slightly; his chest is flushed and he’s beautiful like this, waiting and wanting. He’s beautiful in ways that Victor can’t fully articulate in _any_ language, but he nonetheless wants to convey, wants to make sure that Yuri never has to question how he feels or what he thinks about him. He’s already realized, with shocking clarity, that he _wants_ Yuri, in any and every way possible, wants him more than he’s ever wanted any gold medal, wants to hear Yuri say his name (in any context) more than he’s ever wanted to hear the crowds scream it; he wants Yuri’s hand in his more than he’s ever wanted a pen there as he messily scrawls an autograph.

Yuri’s given him more than he’d ever thought possible, and Victor wants to return that and then some.

That’s the long and the short of it, really, and to Victor, it’s everything.

He curls his fingers again just to make himself squirm and twitch and groan, and then he’s withdrawing them, grabbing the bottle of lube and crawling back to Yuri, kissing him messily as he pours lubricant onto his palm and then wraps his fingers around Yuri’s length, stroking upwards firmly. Yuri’s answering moan makes him growl, and he thumbs the head of Yuri’s erection before moving his hand down and then up again, spreading the lubricant generously while working Yuri over. There’s no real rhythm and Victor knows it has to be at least a little frustrating (okay, maybe more than a little, considering how he’s made Yuri wait), but Yuri’s handling it well, brilliant pupil that he is. 

“You’ve been very patient,” Victor purrs against Yuri’s lips as he withdraws his hand, inwardly chuckling at the little whine Yuri gives at the loss of contact.

Yuri nods, murmurs, “ _Please_ ,” and Victor obliges him. Because of how Yuri’s currently seated, the mechanics of it aren’t exactly ideal, but that’s okay. Victor can and does make it work, and it isn’t like they’re going to be like this for an incredibly extended period of time. Right now, he just wants to give Yuri a taste….

Victor straddles Yuri as best he can, one hand on Yuri’s shoulder and the other on Yuri’s length, guiding it as he lowers himself slowly down onto it. It’s more of a stretch now than it was with his fingers, but it isn’t bad; he’s slick and ready and Yuri’s more than ready, and the look on his face as Victor sinks down onto him makes Victor forget to breathe for a moment.

“Good?” he manages to ask when he’s fully seated, pausing to give them both a moment to adjust.

“Understatement,” Yuri responds, eyes closed, body still and tense. He’s panting softly and it’s quite apparent that his self-control is nearly completely shot, but Victor wants him to hold on a little longer.

Victor draws back just as slowly as he’d pressed down, until only the head of Yuri’s erection is inside of him, and then he moves down again, not as deeply this time, and it’s a torture to the both of them. His own patience is wearing terribly thin (not that he’ll admit that to Yuri right now), and he knows he won’t hold out much longer, doing this, but he also knows that it won’t be just Yuri that will be rewarded when he decides to remove the tie that’s binding his hands. No, Victor himself will be rewarded with the sight and feel of his beautiful Yuri losing control and coming completely undone, and that is _definitely_ going to be worth the wait.

Victor begins a slow, shallow pace and he keeps it there; it isn’t enough for either of them, and he’s having to hang on tightly to the last fraying strands of what self-control he has left to _not_ slam himself down onto Yuri; he wants to give Yuri the pleasure of taking that for himself; so he keeps it slow and irregular and it’s absolutely fucking _maddening_. It feels incredible, though, and the thought that it’s only going to get better makes his cock throb and makes him clench around Yuri, and then he feels _Yuri_ throb, too—

“Please,” Yuri says again, and Victor can’t ignore it, can’t tell Yuri to be patient, can’t tell _himself_ to be patient, either. He thinks they’ve done a pretty damn good job of being patient and it’s _enough_ , already.

The fingers of his right hand find the knot and he tugs it loose, freeing Yuri’s hands. “Time for you to take what you want, Yuri,” he murmurs into Yuri’s ear. 

The sound that Yuri makes is somewhere between a moan and a growl, and it is undeniably sexy. He’s found his _Eros_ for sure, and it’s here, in the way Yuri’s hands grab Victor’s hips and sharply tug (and it’s just this side of painful, having Yuri slamming into him like this, but it’s what he wants and what both of them need); it’s here in the way his mouth trails along Victor’s throat once he’s buried as deeply inside of him as he can get; it’s here in the way Yuri says his name, even, low and shuddering and intoxicating.

Yuri’s moving them now, and Victor lets him; he lets Yuri reposition them so that Victor’s on his back, looking up at Yuri, and Yuri’s between his thighs. Pull and press, just as deeply as before, and both of them groan, but Yuri doesn’t seem quite satisfied with the angle. There’s a quick flash of something in his eyes, and, for a moment there is no movement at all as Yuri seems to consider something.

His hands circle Victor’s hips and he tilts them, and Victor’s pretty sure he knows what Yuri’s doing, what he’s searching for, but on Yuri’s next push, Victor’s thoughts are completely robbed from him when Yuri brushes against his prostate. He doesn’t know if Yuri had been paying particularly close attention when Victor had been preparing himself (well, he’d been staring, so probably), or if Yuri had done some research before all of this (also a possibility), but the ‘how’ doesn’t really matter, because Yuri’s gradually building a rhythm now and with every thrust, he’s hitting that spot, and Victor can feel his body growing hotter, can feel the impending release building low in his abdomen.

Victor can feel his muscles clench and shift with every stroke; Yuri’s pace is growing faster, frantic, and then one of Yuri’s hands is on his length, pumping him in time with his thrusts, and Victor can feel it jerk in Yuri’s fingers as Yuri’s thumb brushes firmly against the head.

“ _Yuri_.” And maybe it’s a plea, a warning, or maybe it’s just because Victor wants to say it. In any case, Yuri gets it, accepts it for whatever it might be (Victor’s not sure, himself), and keeps going, hard and fast and deep, his hand rhythmically squeezing and stroking, and it’s erratic now but it doesn’t matter because it’s exactly enough; Victor’s shouting and shuddering, his release spilling between them, and Yuri’s hand keeps moving just as his hips do, and it’s almost too much because Victor’s incredibly sensitive now and he’s trembling in the aftermath, but he doesn’t want Yuri to slow down until—

He’s beautiful when he comes, Victor realizes, not that it comes as a surprise. Yuri’s beautiful when he lets himself unravel and fall apart like this, eyes closed and lips parted, and it’s Victor’s name that he moans when he does, and that makes Victor’s spent cock give a little twitch. 

They’re still for a few moments afterwards, Yuri leaning over him, still inside of him, their foreheads touching. Their harsh breathing eventually evens out, becomes something more normal, and Victor murmurs, “Now, wasn’t that worth the wait?”

“Yes,” Yuri answers, no hesitation. He leans in even further then, brushing his lips softly against Victor’s. “You’ve never stopped surprising me. Not once.”

Victor’s smile is easy, genuine. “I hope to continue with that pattern. Now. How about a shower?”

They disentangle themselves from one another carefully, and Yuri grabs some tissues to do some minimal cleaning before they enter the shower together; while they’re in there, Victor washes Yuri’s hair for him and all but melts when Yuri returns the favor. 

He’s never had this before, something this precious, this _real_. He wants to hold onto it, to treasure it, for as long as Yuri will have him. 

Maccachin’s still hogging one of the beds when they return; Victor contemplates putting some pajama pants on, at the very least, but settles for just briefs and Yuri does the same. They push the beds together and Maccachin protests only minimally when he’s made to scoot over, but he settles against Victor’s left side and is asleep again within moments. 

Yuri nuzzles in against his right side, fitting perfectly against him, and Victor doesn’t think he’s ever been this happy in his entire life. He’s drowsy and beyond tired but perfectly content. He’s almost asleep when Yuri says, “This is real.”

“It is,” Victor agrees, his hold on the other man tightening just a little. “I can pinch you to prove you’re not dreaming, if you’d like.” 

He can feel Yuri smile against his skin. “Not necessary.” 

Victor kisses the top of his head instead and they fall asleep like that, bodies intertwined, and it’s a first, for both of them.

There are some things more intimate than sex.

(Victor wants all of them, but only with Yuri.)

~*~

Yuri’s already awake; Victor can tell by his breathing. He opens his eyes and runs his fingers through Yuri’s hair, which prompts Yuri to lift his head and look at him. His smile is contagious, and Victor feels himself smiling right back.

“Would you like coffee?” Yuri asks him. “Or breakfast? I figure we can go practice some afterwards, maybe….” He trails off, and Victor feels another helpless surge of affection over Yuri’s thoughtfulness.

“Breakfast sounds good,” Victor tells him, cupping his cheek. “But… I’d like something _else_ right now.”

For a second, Yuri’s brow furrows in confusion, but then Victor’s rolling them so that Yuri is beneath him and it’s then that Yuri’s puzzled look changes to one of understanding, and his smile becomes almost _playful_.

“What was all of that about _patience_ last night?” Yuri challenges, but there’s no real fight in his tone, it’s all teasing and light, and Victor likes it.

“That was last night’s lesson,” Victor explains, leaning down to press an open-mouthed kiss to the place where Yuri’s neck meets his left shoulder. “It’s a brand new day; keep up with me, Yuri.”

Yuri laughs and it sounds sweet, bright. Victor cuts it off with a languid roll of his hips against Yuri’s, and that laugh morphs into a low moan.

He works his way down Yuri’s body slowly, like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be, like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing.

(It’s true, on both counts.)

Yuri’s fingers tangle in his hair just as his own fingers hook under the waistband of Yuri’s briefs, and Yuri breathes, “So what’s today’s lesson, then?”

Victor pauses, meets his lover’s gaze, and winks. “Oh, don’t you worry, I’m sure I’ll think of _something_ ….”

 

 

~END~


End file.
